Of Sir Tor
by Bron-Y-Aur-Stomp'in
Summary: You mean you ate the pie?" Tor's face fell with the expressive nod he received from his companion. "All of it?" Another nod, and a grin. "I hope you get too fat to fit into your armor..." That night Tor dreamt of a very elusive cinnamon apple pie.


The inspiration for this fic was drawn mainly from the novels of Gerald Morris, which I adore. The legends of King Arthur and his Knights of The Round Table have always held a spot in my heart, and I hope to capture at least some of their intrigue in this story. Also, as the dialogue was a little tricky in this chapter, I've had to use italics to distinguish between one person and some others. Please note that in the future this will not be the case.

Cheers,

Bron-Y

* * *

"Oh, but he does look so pale!"

"Poor dear, surely he is at death's door!"

"Agatha, you mustn't speak so!"

"Well, it's not as though he can hear me!"

"Shush! I just saw him move!"

"Eleanor, you silly loon, how could he possibly move with that arrow in his side!"

"I saw it with my very own eyes, I tell you!"

"Look!"

"There, I told you! He's just done it again!"

"That wasn't a move, merely a twitch!"

"He moved, I say!"

"Did not!"

"Dear me, he's just said something!"

"Now don't be foolish, Lillian, he could no sooner speak than move with that grievous wound!"

"Oh, but he did, I heard it! It sounded like 'uuurrrrrgggghhhh'."

"What the devil does that mean?"

"Oh, he's delirious, surely!"

_"You're standing on my hand..."_

"Oh!"

"He's alive!"

_"Yes, quite. Look, could you do me a favour and tell me where I am?"_

"Why, in the Lost Wood, of course!"

_"In the what, now?"_

"The Lost Woods, Sir Knight. We came upon you just now, as we were out for a stroll."

_"I see. And do you often stroll in lost forests?"_

"Oh no, t'is not a lost forest, Sir Knight."

_"What?"_

"You're in _The_ Lost Wood, not any old lost wood."

"Oh, Eleanor, can't you see how feverish he is?"

"He does seem disoriented…"

_"No, no, it's just that I don't completely understand how a wood can be lost…"_

"See now, Eleanor? Surely we cannot leave him here like this."

"Surely not. We must bring him back to the castle."

_"Castle?"_

"Yes, of course, the Castle of Lost Wood."

_"Yes, of course."_

"Do you think you can stand, Sir Knight?"

_"Actually, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather just stay here."_

"Oh, you couldn't possibly, Sir Knight. The Lost Wood is no place for an injured knight."

_"You don't say."_

"Certainly not."

_"Yet you all were strolling in it?"_

"Why, of course. We are the Ladies of The Lost Wood, after all."

_"Oh, I see."_

"Now, let's get you back to the castle."

It was an unbearably long stroll back to Castle of The Lost Wood, and by the time he was placed in a warm bed with a soft feather mattress the knight hardly had the energy or the will to argue with the Ladies of The Lost Wood when they insisted on tending his wound. Instead he drifted promptly to sleep.

* * *

Judging by the light in the room the next day when the knight awoke it was past noon and perhaps nearing the point in mid-afternoon when the sun reached its highest point in the sky before beginning to descend again.

Sitting up, the knight threw back the bed covers, startled to find the Ladies of The Lost Wood had found it necessary to remove all of his armor and clothes save his shorts in order to clean the arrow wound to his side.

_"What have I got myself into this time…?"_ He muttered while searching the room for his things and dressing quickly.

It was just after he had managed to pile all of his armor onto the bead in a heap that there was a knock on the door.

"Sir Knight? Are you awake?"

_"Ah, yes. Yes I am."_

With no further warning than that, the door was thrust open to admit, what he figured, could be only some of the Ladies of The Lost Wood.

"Oh, you've dressed!"

The knight glanced down to his clothes with a raised brow.

_"Was I not supposed to?"_

"Well you'll just have to remove you shirt in order for us to check how your wound is faring."

_"Actually, it's quite a bit better; I've just checked it myself. I must thank you all for your hospitality and concern, but I really have to be going."_

"But you are injured!"

_"It's just a scratch, really."_

"You must not go, Sir Knight, you have not yet healed!"

The Knight shifted uncomfortably before glancing back to his armor.

_"Well, if you must know, I'm actually not a knight… Yes, that's right, I'm only a courier, you see. And I've a message to deliver to, ah… to someone. And I'm already late."_

"But if you are not a knight, why were you wearing armor? Surely a courier would not wear armor."

_"Well, it's funny you should mention that, because it's not really my armor… It's… I'm delivering the armor as well. To a knight. But it would have been far too awkward a package to strap to my horse, so I decided to wear it."_

"I'm not sure the knight you are delivering the armor to would fully appreciate that."

"No, not at all!"

"Very unethical of you."

_"Yes, well, there it is. Now I really should be going."_

"Wait just one moment, how did you come to have an arrow stuck in you?"

_"Yes, of course, the arrow…" The Knight fidgeted a moment here before crossing his arms. "I've told you I'm delivering a message to someone, right?"_

"Yes, yes, we've heard that. What does it have to do with the arrow?"

"Do tell."

_"Well the message I carry happens to be of some great import, you see, and there are those who would stop at nothing to see that it does not get delivered."_

"Oh my!"

"You mean to say you were being hunted by assassins?!"

_"Well, no, not exactly. You see, what I meant was-"_

"You poor dear!"

"You must tell us what we can do to help you!"

"Oh yes, we will do anything to help!"

_"Really the only help you could give me is to allow me to return to my errand as soon as possible."_

"Of course!"

"We wouldn't dream of stopping you!"

"But won't you take some food and wine?"

"Yes, and how about a warm cloak?"

_"Well… if you insist."_

It was a full two hours later before the Knight was sitting astride his horse at the gates of Castle of The Lost Wood with all eleven of the Ladies of The Lost Wood gathered round him.

"Sir, before you leave, won't you at least tell us your name?"

"Oh please do!"

"Yes, you must!"

_"Very well. My name is…" The Knight glanced about the courtyard a moment before turning back to the ladies. "Lance."_

"Lance?"

"You mean like the instrument knights use to joust with?"

The Knight grimaced. It was the first thing that had come to mind. _"Yes, that's right."_

"How… lovely."

"Very nice."

"Yes, so… easy to remember."

_"Yes, well, thank you all again for your great kindness ladies, but I really must be going. Goodbye."_

"Farewell, Lance!"

"Do come back and visit!"

"Journey safely, Lance!"

"Think of us often!"

All of this was shouted at the knight's back as he urged his horse out of the courtyard and through the gates without so much as a backward glance. He did not stop to make camp until very late into the night, putting as much ground between himself and the Ladies of The Lost Wood as possible without killing his horse.


End file.
